


no more red

by postfixrevolution



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 13:02:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17849942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postfixrevolution/pseuds/postfixrevolution
Summary: the scent of kamui's nohrian lavender soap is barely there beneath the tang of rainwater that barely disguises the foul smell of spilled blood and burnt flesh





	no more red

**Author's Note:**

> just cleaning out my drives when i found this, have a small piece of sad

Takumi sighs into her hair, tightens his shaking arms around her. Like the heavy air from his lungs, her hair is stained with the smell of smoke and carnage, too deeply instilled in every winter-white strand that even the icy caress of battlefield rain cannot wash it away.

"What are we doing?" he murmurs--too tired to be a question, but not quite solid enough to be anything else. He screws his eyes shut, breathes in a slow, trembling breath.

The scent of Kamui's Nohrian lavender soap is barely there beneath the tang of rainwater that barely disguises the foul smell of spilled blood and burnt flesh. Tawny eyes flutter open, met with the white of her hair and the cloudy grey of the battlefield they stand in. "What are we doing," he repeats--listlessly, defeatedly, lost.

Takumi hears Yato thud onto the sullied earth as Kamui's blood-stained fingers unfurl, feels her slender frame shake as she sucks in the rainwater-lavender-battlefield air and twists calloused fingers desperately into the fabric of his shirt, so tightly they begin to tremble. She swallows thickly before she speaks.

"Don't leave me," she mutters. Her words echo hollowly in the small cavern of space between them. "My hands and the ground... They're the same color. I don't know what we're doing," Kamui whispers, "but don't leave me alone with all this red."

At her back, his fingers fall slack, letting the smooth handle of Fujin Yumi slip slowly from his hands. It hits the ground similarly to Yato, with a careless, solid thud. Newly emptied hands find solace in the ragged fabric of her cape, letting his fingers curl into them with the bruising desperation he'd never allow himself to inflict on her Hoshidan-sun skin, her dragon-blood bones. Kamui’s cape, close enough to her that it bears the fragrances of both lavender and war within its tightly intertwined threads, is all he allows himself, and Takumi holds to it like a lifeline.

He slides his eyes shut. "Just close your eyes," Takami murmurs softly.

Her hands twitch, her breath hitches. As thunder begins to crash around them, Takumi forces back a shiver from the rain that soaks through his armor and focuses, instead, on the warmth of Kamui in his arms. A quiet sob wracks her frame, and he pulls her in closer.

"Kamui, close your eyes," he repeats. He unfurls his fingers from her cape, places them at her wrists and urges her trembling hands to relax. "There's no more red," he hums quietly. "I won't leave."


End file.
